


Fire Burning In My Bones

by AlorevFritz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Except one who's androgynous, Four original characters - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, all the OC's are female, sort of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlorevFritz/pseuds/AlorevFritz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby's expression clenched, to his own surprise. He was inexplicably angry at whoever was the cause of it and everyone involved. Crowley’s face scrunched up in pain and Bobby swallowed. He couldn’t leave Crowley to a slow death like this, even though he wished to want it. He couldn’t allow it, it went too much against what he stood for. “Alright, I’ll help, period."<br/>///<br/>The King of Hell showing up on Bobby's doorstep was not a good thing. And frankly Crowley isn't making it any easier for Bobby to want to help, between the snark and the strange way he's been acting and the weird things he's been making Bobby feel. All he wants is to fix this whole mess and have some leverage over the demon, until his feelings decide that now would be a good time to get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been writing and editing and sitting on this one for over a year. Now that the first four chapters are fully edited and the other five well on the way, I thought now was a good time as any to upload. Should be updated every week or two weeks, I'll know how that's going to work by next friday. And I'm sorry for the dark humor in the title. I enjoyed that more than I should have. Enjoy!  
> ~Alorev

  Gentle arms wrapped around his neck and a smile spread across Bobby's lips.  He leaned down for a kiss as they swayed to sourceless music. Karen’s lips were gentle against his, perched in a smile. He pulled away  and blinked once. The figure before him wasn’t Karen, but someone else. A faint figure, but a somehow familiar figure all the same. He caught the flash of dark clothes and the spark of green eyes and his mouth opened to speak-

  Wham!

  Bobby jumped upwards, scrambling in a panic for a moment. It took a moment to realize he wasn't trapped, just entangled in his chair. He grumbled to himself as he shook the sleep out of his system. A shotgun sat at against the leg of his desk and he picked it up. He spared a glance to the book he'd been using as a pillow, grateful not to have drooled on it. It wasn’t like falling asleep at his desk was an uncommon occurrence, just an annoying one. He shook away the memory of shadowed clothing and bright eyes, deciding it was just a weird dream. It happened more often than not since he’d become a hunter that his dreams seemed strange, even to him.

  He focused on where he'd heard the bang come from. He could hear panting, a soft, scuffling noise and a dog-like whining. Bobby was silent as he stood, moving toward the doorway on soft feet. He padded to one side of the open doorway, listening, shotgun cocked and safety off. It paid to know how to compensate for old age when you had a job where you needed to be light on your feet.

  “R-Robert?” A voice called out, strangled and stuttering but it was familiar. Bobby squinted, lips pursed as he came to a decision. He whirled around the corner, shot gun up and at the ready, just in case. The air by his coat rack growled at him but Bobby only spared it a little bit of attention. Instead his eyes stayed glued to the man sprawled against his front door, sweaty and panting. “Oh...thank hell...you’re here. Growley...mmm...no. Down.”

  Bobby lowered the shotgun slightly, slowly and distrustfully. He moved it to point in the hellhounds direction, expecting the hound to be more of a threat than Crowley. “What’re you doin’ here? An’ why’d you look like you look like you’re about to pass out on my floor?”

  “Thank you...for your...concern, Robert.” Crowley grunted around his words. His eyes drifting away from Bobby as he gathered his feet beneath himself. He tried to stand, only to waver and slump against the door again. “Could you...help me up...please?”

  Bobby started and blinked, shotgun faltering for a moment. He let the realization that Crowley had said the word please in a non-sarcastic manner to sink in. Crowley looked vaguely embarrassed about it but didn’t say anything. He went to step forward and then thought better of it. “Is your dog gonna bite my hand off if I try to come over there.”

  Crowley shifted to look in the direction Bobby was and shook his head. “No. He won’t.”

  Bobby reached out a hand but stopped when the hellhound growled at him. He retracted his offer, in the least threatening manner he could. He raised an eyebrow at Crowley, ready to walk away.

  Crowley was quick to curb the behavior, sighing in annoyance. “Growley no, bad. Robert is not a threat. At least not right now.”

  Bobby snorted but the dog didn’t make a move at him this time and he reached out to Crowley. The demon took his hand and stumbled when he got to his feet, almost falling to the floor. Bobby hauled him into his arms on instinct. Crowley collapsed against his chest as Bobby’s arm slipped around his back. He leaned on Bobby with a quiet curse that sounded suspiciously like Gaelic. “Whoa. What happened t’ you?”

  “I’ll explain...in a moment…” Crowley grit his teeth together as he spoke. Bobby kept his questions to himself, half carrying Crowley to the couch. The demon complied to the hunters fussing, sitting at Bobby's insistence. Bobby tried to reign that particular instinct in and found it hard to do. The hardwood floor creaked  at Crowley’s side, which meant Growley had followed them.

  Bobby retreated behind the safety of his desk, away from Crowley and his hellhound. He shuffled around the clutter, pretending to look for something. In reality he was just searching for something to distract himself. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on an’ why you’re here, now?”

  “You remember those bones I collected in return for giving back your soul?” Crowley sank back against the couch but not without wincing and a quiet grunt rushed past his lips. Bobby nodded his affirmative and Crowley continued, caution evident in the way he spoke. “Well, I have a traitor in my ranks. I left them where I thought they’d be safe and they’re no longer there.”

  “An’ what does that hafta do with you stumblin’ in here like a baby deer?” Bobby stepped out in front of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He forced himself to bark out the question and be harsh instead of soft in the face of the demons obvious pain.

  Crowley sighed uneasily and reached up to pull away his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and peeled away his dress shirt, only to reveal a wide swath of bubbling burn. “Whoever the traitor is, they have my bones. And they’re burning them one by one, which is quite the painful process by the way. Once the last one’s gone…”

  “So are you.” Bobby finished flatly, eyes narrowing in blatant suspicion. “But why’dja come to me? Last time we talked for more'n five minutes I almost had your bones burnt an’ you double crossed me. You should know the only hunters who wantcha dead more than me are Sam an’ Dean. You didn’t strike me as the stupid type before this Crowley.”

  Crowley deflated, looking down and Bobby could've sworn that the demon looked crushed. “I don’t...I don’t know why. I just came here. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Suprisingly, you’re the one who wants to kill me the least out of all the enemies I’ve made. I was-”

  “You're scared, hurt an’ your instincts told'ja that you were safest here, didn’ they?”

  Crowley didn’t look him in the eye but nodded and Bobby sighed in response. “I don’ know why it’d go through your head that comin’ to a hunter was a good idea. But you ain’t the first to come here for those exact reasons and you ain’t gonna be the last. What exactly do ya expect me to do 'bout this?”

  “I didn’t…” Crowley exhaled a deep breath and shifted awkwardly against the back cushion. “I can’t go to my subordinates. I don’t know which of them is the traitor yet and too look weak in front of them right now would get me overthrown. Hell is...it’s Hell, it’s never safe. The only other place I would’ve gone was my house here on the surface. Unfortunately Lucifer had that place and everything in it razed to the ground. What other choice did I have left? Like it or not, this is the safest place for me right now. Strange, I know. I like this as much as you do, but I figured there was a slim chance you’d help. And if not, then at least I could get a quick death here instead of the torture of this awful, slow one. I did help you once, the least you could do is give me a merciful death if I can’t stop this.”

  “An’ if I do help you, are you gonna turn on my right after? Take advantage of me?” Bobby waved off Crowley’s explanation on the outside. In his mind he processed the words with something akin to shock. “What exactly do I get outta this, besides a knife in the back?”

  Crowley chewed on his lower lip for a moment and studiously avoided Bobby’s gaze. “I’d...be willing to make a deal of sorts. I won’t backstab you and you can request something, a free pass of sorts, within reason. There are some things that go just too far and certain things I can't do anyways.”

  “Jus’ be glad your first instinct wasn’t to go to the boys for help.” Bobby kept his voice and expression neutral. He’d expected a deal or some sort of business transaction. But a free pass? That was hard to ignore, it would be useful no matter what happened. “But you’re right. You can’t do this on your own.”

  Crowley tensed up . Judging by the squeak of floorboards so had the hellhound. Bobby could see him attempting to discourage his hopefulness and tried to ignore it. “So you’ll...you mean you’ll…”

  “Ya, but only so long as we make this deal official. I don’t even trust you as far as I could throw you. An’ we do this on my conditions. Better the enemy you know an’ all that.” He waited for the inevitable snarky or borderline flirty response.

  Instead the King of Hell doubled over, crying out in pain and Bobby’s eyes widened. Any control over his bleeding heart went out the window and he was at Crowley’s side in a few steps. The command came just as the growling started before Bobby could do anything. “Growley...no…”

  The hellhound whined but did nothing. Bobby manipulated Crowley’s clothing aside with no resistance from the injured demon. His expression clenched, to his own surprise, as he watched the burn spread. He was inexplicably angry at whoever was the cause of it and everyone involved. Crowley’s face scrunched up in pain and Bobby swallowed. He couldn’t leave Crowley to a slow death like this, even though he wished to want it. He couldn’t allow it, it went too much against what he stood for. “Alright, I’ll help, period. You able to do anythin’ ‘bout these burns?”

  Crowley’s expression morphed to pained shock. “You...you’ll actually help? I thought…”

  “I already said I’d help, don’t test my patience.”

  “The deal-”

  “Just let me help you alrigh’?” Bobby’s jaw clenched and his eyes averted to the burns again. “Right now you aren’t in any position to double cross me an’ if we need to, we’ll talk about it later. Jus’ leave it for now okay?”

  “Thank you Robert.” There was a blink of human emotion in Crowley's green eyes. Bobby recognized it as gratefulness and appreciation. “I mean it...thanks.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Updating will officially be every friday and I'll attempt to update FF.net at the same time as well. Enjoy!

     “Now, how ‘bout those burns? Anythin' we can do for 'em?” Bobby rocked back on his heels to put some space between himself and Crowley. There was something about being so close to the Crossroads demon that set him on edge in an unusual way. He realized too late he could’ve stood up and walked away but that would only look suspicious now.

     “Not...that I know of.” Crowley shook his head, musing it over for a moment. He reached up to tug his dress shirt into a semi-respectable position. His eyes followed Bobby as he slipped into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of whisky, which he passed to Crowley.

     “Here. May not do much but at least it might help to take your mind off it a little.”

     Crowley managed a rueful grin and took a swig from the bottle, nursing it as he spoke. “Can’t say this was what I was expecting Singer.”

     Bobby attempted to ignore the disbelieving note in his voice. He couldn't believe what he was doing either. He distracted himself by searching for something with a few clean pages and a pencil. “If you didn’t, why’dja come here?”

     “Well, I suppose I was expecting to get thrown to the curb. It was a last resort after all, getting your help, but it was preferable to lying down and dying.”

     A clink indicated Crowley had set the bottle down and Bobby turned, journal in hand. “Well, ‘m not kicking you out so you better believe it. When’d they burn the first bone?”

     Crowley expression shifted to that of a little kid who’d gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Bobby’s curiosity peaked. “About two hours ago. That was actually the third one. It’s been approximately a bone an hour so far.”

     Bobby paused in his writing, almost snapping the pencil in half between calloused fingers. He could feel his features contorting in an annoyance and a not-so small amount of anger. “You idjit! You waited two hours to come to me about this?!?”

     Crowley swallowed hard, refusing to meet his eye. Bobby breathed out, using the tricks he had to stay calm when the Winchesters pulled a stunt. Remembering how painful the burns looked made him want to shake some sense into Crowley. “I had to make sure that was what was actually happening. I couldn’t raise suspicion by leaving the moment it happened, I needed an excuse. And despite what you seem to think, this also drains my powers. I had to build up the energy to get here, something I haven’t had to do in a long time.” There was a momentary flicker of sass over his face at Bobby’s inference that he was an idiot but it left soon after. Crowley was aware of his position, and that sassing Bobby wasn't a good idea at the moment. If he did he'd end up on the street, on his own.

     Bobby sighed, suppressing the urge to repeatedly hit his head against the wall. Instead he resigned himself to as jotting down a few figures. “You’re almost as bad as the boys and I mean that. So, there’s what, just over 200 bones in the human body? That gives us around that many hours if we’re lucky. Nine days tops, closer to seven or eight, I doubt they’ll continue at this rate. They won’t give you that much time. ‘sides, Hell would know something was up by then.”

     “I agree. That sort of luck doesn't happen often, not with the target I’ve got on my back.” Crowley moved gingerly to lean forward, elbows to knees and chin in his hands as he mused aloud. “So, there’s the timeline. Now, I know the bones were there two days ago.”

     “Can we narrow that down any further?” Bobby rolled the pencil between his fingers, unable to stop himself from fidgeting.

     “Most likely time? Yesterday, about noon. I was in the midst of a rather...complicated deal and it was the longest I’ve been absent from Hell in the past two days. Opportune timing.” Crowley paused to think, reaching out to rest one hand in the air. Bobby assumed he was patting the hellhound. “The room was demon-proof, which raises more than a few red flags. That’s why I had to check first, the possibility was...well,  it was impossible, or so I thought.”

     “But if it was demon-proof, how’d it happen? Dry bones don’t just get up and walk away.” Bobby blinked, shaking his head a bit in confusion. “Who knew they were even there?”

     “Well, they do if you’re a prophet in the desert.” Crowley smirked but it fell away soon after. “Only my inner circle knew about, which narrows down the suspect list a bit. Not that they even know where the bones were. But they’re all demons. And even if it is to be someone who knows me well, someone I give a little more slack to, it doesn't mean the did it. They could've sold the information or hired someone to do the job for them. Finding the bones and the culprit first would be best, finding the mole if that’s the case can wait.”

     “But the room was demon proof?”

     Crowley looked faintly annoyed at the accusation. “Of course it was. I do know my witchcraft Robert. Those spells and runes would only let one demon in, me. Any others would be fried on the spot. Even a knight of hell would at least get trapped in the room. Besides, the runes should’ve alerted me if a demon other than myself stepped into the room.”

     “So what does that leave us, what could’ve gotten in and out of Hell, let alone that room?” Bobby tapped his pencil against the journal, waiting for Crowley to mull it over and speak.

     “Souls perhaps. But to even get to my sanctuary in Hell before corruption? Unlikely. All souls go through general registration and such anyways. I try to keep things organized down there. And I doubt this is that big of a conspiracy or I’d be dead by now. An angel could enter Hell, but I would know about it and-” He sat straight up, eyes widening in recognition. “Bollocks.”

     Bobby looked up from his regretfully short list, brows furrowing together in confusion. “What?”

     “I didn’t make it reaper proof. They bring souls down to Hell all the time. Come an’ go as they please and some demons prefer to get rogue reapers to do their dirty work. Anyone one of ‘em could have…” Crowley trailed off, reaching up to rub at his chest with gentle hands as he spoke. Growley whined at his owners obvious distress.

     “So our most likely suspect is a rogue reaper.” Bobby let out a frustrated sigh and scratched the information into the journal. “Great. How exactly do we catch a reaper? Or even find someone who would know which reaper it was? An’ why wasn’t the room reaper-proof?”

     “Reapers are technically angels, not demons or souls. I didn’t...I didn’t think about angel proofing. Most reapers mind their own business, they don’t care about the politics of heaven or hell. And if any other angel got in, every demon in Hell would know about it. They’d know about it in the Cage.” Crowley looked miserable and Bobby winced, slipping into a more sympathetic tone and expression. He felt bad for the demon, which he knew was neither normal, nor a good thing for a hunter. “And as for the need to find a specific reaper, we’d need to get the information out of a few others. ...I could almost kill you and trap one when it comes for your soul?”

      Bobby didn’t say anything, but shot him a bitchface that would’ve rivaled the masters. The masters being Sam Winchester, and Crowley chuckled in response.

     “I’ll take that as a no?” Crowley zoned out, thoughtful, mind elsewhere than Bobby’s living room. “I have a few reapers under my employment. Even if they don’t know who it was, they can likely point me to someone who’ll know a little more.”

     “And then what? You’re gonna go hunt ‘em down? That could take days, days we don’t have.” Bobby shook his head and paused to take a deep breath. “We need a plan for after that. Even if you could catch the reaper, what happens if another bone gets burnt in the middle of somethin’? You’re incapacitated as it is, we can't have that happen. No, hasta be somethin’ we can both do but I can do on my own if it comes down to that.”

     They were both quiet for a moment and Bobby racked his mental files for a solution. He finally mused the idea aloud when he found what he was looking for. “Astral Projection? Worked for the boys once. Nearest psychic I trust is a few states away but if you can perform it we can save that time.”

     Crowley’s eyes narrowed in critical thought. Bobby decided he looked like a businessman or a tactician in that moment. “Possible, and I could perform it, but you wouldn’t get far if you’ve never done it before. If there isn’t the reaper we need, or even a reaper nearby, then we’d be trouble. Besides, you wouldn’t have time to learn spirit abilities. I’m currently a little low on the power needed to teach you them. Any reaper would be able to overpower you. And I’d rather not call Moose and Squirrel in.”

     Bobby hummed. “Agreed, last resort then. How about your dog?”

     “They’d rip Growley and any other hound I sent to shreds. Angels remember? Have you ever seen Feathers take out a hound? Not exactly a fair fight.”

     Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, frustrated, and then they flew open, a plan forming in his mind. “Got an idea. ‘s risky but it might be our best shot at getting the information we need.”

     “Go ahead.” Crowley waved him on and Bobby began. He started out hesitant at and then forged onward so Crowley couldn’t interrupt him.

     “It’s possible to bind a reaper to you. If your...contacts can’t  give us a name, we get a random reaper an’ do some questioning. See if we can an’ just go on like that. I’ll look to see if there’s a spell that’ll let me bind a specific reaper in case you can get a name. Once bound, they can’t refuse orders, meaning you or I can question it and get the truth.”

     Crowley looked at him incredulously and Bobby waited for his response. He was more than a little surprised when Crowley exploded on him. “Are you insane?!” He looked pissed and Bobby winced. “And what happens when you break the bond? Or are you going to keep a reaper bound to you till the day you day?”

     “Could be useful…” Bobby stopped with a chuckle and Crowley’s withering glare. “If they’re angels, they follow the same rules, we just need a banishing sigil ready. The moment I unbind it, we banish it, just in case.”

     “And what then? It’ll find you and then it’ll kill you. I can’t stop that right now.”

     “Reapers don’t seem to pay much attention to humans. Like you said, they ain’t even interested in heaven or hell. We do this somewhere else an’ hope you got the mojo to zap us back when it’s finished.” Bobby shrugged, searching for anything else they may have overlooked.

     Crowley was quiet for a long moment. “Foolhardy, but better than any of our other plans.”

     “And our only viable one.” Bobby pushed off his desk, searching for all the books he had on voodoo and black magic. “Should have all the information we need ‘round here somewhere. ‘ll go out to get any supplies I don’ have while you go through your contacts, sound good?”

     He muttered to himself as he searched. When he turned around again with an armful of books, Crowley was holding a pair of glasses in his hands. He offered them to Bobby and Bobby set the books down on his desk with a huff. “...I’m old, not blind, idjit.”

     Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. “They’re so you can see the reapers, and by affect Growley. For goodness sake Robert, touchy.”

     Bobby took them cautiously and slipped them on. His eye slid to the dog and he whipped them off, almost throwing the glasses against a wall. “Nope. No way, no how. Absolutely not. Get that thing outta my house. ‘m not starin’ at...at THAT all day. Nope.”

     Crowley snorted softly and Bobby could’ve sworn he heard amusement in his voice. “Close your eyes.”

     With hesitant movements Bobby did and he felt Crowley take the glasses and settle them on his nose. “Hell is what your deepest fears and nightmares are. It latches onto your imagination. Imagine something other than what you saw and believe it. I imagine Hellhounds as big, black, furry dogs, pointed ears, four to six glowing eyes, two tails. Big paws, slobbery tongue, sharp teeth and muzzle. Whole bit. Got it?”

     “Ya…”

     “Now believe it.” Bobby heard Crowley step away but kept his eyes closed. “Open your eyes.”

     Bobby did so one eye at a time and his jaw dropped, mouth working for words. “Oh...uh, ya. That’s...that’s much better.”

     Growley looked almost as smug as his owner and Crowley chuckled, smirking a little. He looked much more like his usual self than he had in his past hour. For some reason Bobby found that comforting. “Good. Shouldn’t take me long to go through my associates. Mind if I borrow your basement?”

     “Fine, sure.” Bobby slipped behind his desk, resolving to go through his books. He heard Crowley heading downstairs and went back to work.

     It took him a half hour to compile his shopping list. Looking at it he realized he was less than pleased to have to leave Crowley alone. For more and less obvious reasons. “Crowley!”

     The King of Hell appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Yes Robert?”

     “You got ‘bout ten minutes til the next one.” Bobby double checked his watch and then continued. “You want me here or can I go get the supplies?”

      “I can handle it.” Crowley waved him off but it looked forced and Bobby’s lips pursed in suspicion.

     “‘lright. Don’ let anything...happen to the house while ‘m gone.”

     “Of course darling.” Crowley smirked up at him but it seemed forced before disappearing into the basement. Bobby snatched his keys off the desk and stomped out the door. He could be muttering about impossible demon kings as he headed for his truck.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ugh. Sorry for the late update guys, I know it's only two days late but I still feel bad. School and work and getting my AJ Crowley costume ready for halloween got the better of me and I lost track of the time. My apologies. Anyways, here's the newest chapter. Enjoy!

   Bobby made the trip to Sioux Falls in record time. On a normal day he didn’t speed unless he was on a hunt or it was urgent.  Urgent meant having to go to the library and get the information within a half an hour or have a dead hunter on his hands. Those were the situations that tended to get Jody on his ass. He knew otherwise, he had no reason to speed and was better off taking his time. Driving cleared his mind and sometimes he needed a reason to get out and stay out of the house for a bit. Without opting for human interaction. Sometimes the house got to the point he felt crowded and stuffy and his breath was stuck in his ribs. Sometimes the overwhelming situation got to him the apocalypse and worrying about the Winchesters. And sometimes it was the memories the house came with. Today of course there was cause for urgency. Although he was ninety percent sure any hunter in his right mind would’ve disagreed.

   “Singer!”

   And that was just what he needed at a time like this. Socializing was not his strong suit. Bobby often reminded himself he could at least be a polite human being and use proper decorum. So he turned obligingly to the source of the call.

   Jody Mills jogged up to him in full uniform, a little out of place in the grocery store.  The little plastic basket slung over her arm was at odds with her uniform. “You better have a good reason for speedin’ into town like that Singer.”

   “In a bit of a rush.” Bobby bit out, noticing her following along behind him as he turned down the next aisle. His eyes scanned the shelves for the ingredients he needed to find.

   “Somethin’ up with the boys?” Jody lowered her voice and Bobby felt a little bit of annoyance melt out of him at her secrecy and kinship. After the apocalypse and zombies, he’d had to fill her in on a few things. She didn’t like it and he wished he hadn't had to tell her. But at least she wasn’t riding him about his drinking or occasional speeding anymore. If he had asked, he was pretty sure he could get her help if it was about him or the boys or a world threatening apocalypse. And she understood now, understood the life he had. She also understood why, even when he tried his hardest, he wasn’t exactly up to normal standards.

   “Not exactly. Favour for a...friend. But it’s private and a bit time sensitive.” Cinnamon...parsley...Bobby read through the ingredients in his head again and sighed aloud. The spell sounded like an herb mix for chicken. That was provided you ignored the occult ingredients in it, like bones and blood. Most of those he had and the blood had to be his anyways. “Balls.”

   “Anything I can do?” Jody hummed in understanding at his explanation. “Watch your language Singer.”

   “It’s complicated. And I’d rather-actually there is one thing.” Bobby winced but continued, figuring that asking Jody was his fastest course of action. “Know if anyone’s got or hit a young animal lately and wouldn’ mind sparin’ a coupla bones?”

   “Guy passin’ through yesterday hit a deer around dusk.” Jody mused, giving Bobby a curious look. “Not even a year old. Gerald’s cutting it up at the compound. That work?”

   “That'll work just fine.” Bobby gave a quick sigh of relief and checked over his shopping list again. “Mind comin’ with? Easier than havin’ to explain myself. I don’ have time for questions or to hunt somethin’ down myself.”

   “Lemme grab groceries for the station an’ I’ll meet you outside.” Jody brushed past him, striding purposefully for another aisle. Bobby gave a faint nod at her back before heading to the register.

   He waited a stressful ten minutes or so, mentally counting down to when the next bone would be burnt. He didn’t fancy leaving Crowley alone in the house for too much longer. If something happened or if he did something, it might not turn out well. Jody gave him a wave as she exited the store and Bobby followed the police cruiser. The local hunting compound wasn't far away. Anyone needing help processing an animal went there to do it. They also brought any animal involved in collision that could was salvageable. Most of the towns experienced hunters showed up to help for those. Bobby had even pitched in a few times and when he did, the hunters in town seemed impressed by his skill with a knife.

   It was a skill he’d learned fast when it came to hunting monsters. It was also useful for getting rid of bodies when he had the time and ability to. Not that the hunters in town knew that.

   Gerald was there and he nodded his assent when Jody asked if Bobby could take a few of the bones. He did look curious though, blinking  when Bobby picked out a few ribs and the skull. Bobby spoke up before most of the more incriminating questions could start. “Trapping.”

   “Some meat would do better.”

   “These’ll work fine, thanks.” Bobby brushed the suggestion off and packaged his choices in a plastic bags. “Thanks Jody. Thanks Gerald.”

   “Hold on Singer!” Jody caught up with him outside the building, grabbing Bobby’s arm and turning him to face her so he would stop. Mentally he cringed and sighed. “Look, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do? You seem pretty on edge, I’d like to help if it’s serious.”

   “I’m not sure my friend would appreciate the extra manpower. He’s a bit...private." Bobby edged toward his truck when it looked like Jody might stop him again. He angled himself so he could get there fast if Jody attempted to grab him. “I’ll call you if somethin’ comes up that I need help with though.”

   He moved then, taking just a few steps to swing himself into the drivers seat. Jody didn't have time to stop him and he threw the truck into reverse. Crowley would be distrustful of her help, even if he’d be a little more likely to accept it if Bobby trusted her. Frankly Bobby didn’t want her to get involved if things got as dangerous as he thought they might. He also didn't want to hear what she thought about him helping out the King of Hell of all people. If it came down to it, she was higher on his list of who to ask for help than the boys. They wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut if they found out. Not to mention they were likely to help whoever was burning Crowley’s bones than help get his bones back. He knew when it came to Jody at least, that she would do as he asked and there was a fifty percent chance she’d stay quiet.

   Crowley was sitting on the couch when Bobby got back, looking as prim and proper as ever. Bobby almost found it to be reassuring. Almost as if what was happening wasn’t affecting the demon as badly as it actually was. As if it wasn't as bad as Bobby already knew it was. But he’d tortured a demon by burning their bones and he knew what was happening and what would happen. It would only get worse for Crowley the more bones were burnt and the longer this went on. His appearance was well manufactured, but manufactured all the same.

   He held up a shot glass when Bobby came into the study, swirling it once. “Had one of my reapers fetch it for me. As much as I dislike desecrating my Craig, the Siren’s blood does take the edge off.”

   Bobby studied the mixture for a minute, nose wrinkling slightly. “That looks disgusting. Got a name?”

   “Trust me, it doesn’t taste much better than it looks either. I do have a name, but not of the reaper who took my bones. I was able to get direction to the name of one who, according to all my associates, will have that information.” Crowley stood, downing his drink and brushing his suit carefully. “I trust you found the appropriate spell?”

   “Mhm.” Bobby grunted as he packed up everything he needed into a duffle bag and slung it over his shoulders.

   “Let’s get on with it then.” Crowley clapped a hand over Bobby’s shoulder, warm and firm but yielding. Bobby could’ve stepped away if he wanted to. “Ready?”

   Bobby nodded slowly and cautiously, tensing up. There was a second of feeling like he was stretching uncomfortably. Then a few moments of gut wrenching queasiness that he doubled over for. Crowley’s hand migrated to his back and his voice was concerned, which Bobby hadn't expected. “Alright there Robert?”

   “Fine. ‘m fine.” Bobby straightened up, shrugging off Crowley's supportive hand in embarrassment. He rifled through his duffle bag to spray Enochian sigils around the room of where ever they were. “Jus’ don’ like travelling that way.”

   It wasn’t until he heard Growley’s pitiful whine behind him that Bobby realized. They had once again reached the hour mark. Bobby hadn't noticed the dog, despite the glasses, which he chastised himself for. He turned on his heel, catching Crowley before the demon could collapse onto the floor. “Another one?”

   “Yes.” Crowley rasped out and curled into his chest. Bobby held him for a minute before maneuvering him to sit against a nearby wall. “Bollocks. That bloody hurts.”

   “I’d imagine so.” Bobby stayed for a moment longer, until he was sure Crowley could manage on his own. He went back to setting up the altar then, holding up a talisman and chanting over it. He disliked black magic, it was strange, full of loopholes and dangerous. But at times like this it was handy to know a few tricks. A shallow cut across the palm of his hand and he created the banishing sigil first. He waited a moment and then filled the middle of the talisman, squeezing his hand to get just enough blood into it.

   There were a few long seconds, waiting with baited breath, before a reaper appeared. There was a mix of masculine and feminine features pulled into a huffy expression. Button nose scrunched up, full lips pursed. Its square jaw tight held tight and narrowed eyes framed with short, white eyelashes. “I hope you like an early death.”

   Bobby rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow in the way only an ornery old man could. “You’re under a binding spell so good luck. Got a couple a questions for you, an’ ‘m willing to wait till we get the answers we want. Sooner you wanna be unbound, the quicker you oughta answers.”

   “Well, you could at least be polite and do introductions first.”

   Crowley leveraged himself up against the wall and Bobby made an aborted motion to help him up. There was a strange need in him to make Crowley sit back down. The demon strode forward with purpose and seemed to go back to his usual, intimidating self. “No need. I know who you are and you know who I am. What I want are answers.”

   “Oh, the King of Hell himself. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The reaper cocked out their hip and Bobby felt reminded of a teenage girl...or teenage Dean. “Ask away your highness.”

   Crowley’s gaze narrowed, critical and accusatory. “I know you don’t have to answer me with the truth moron. But you do have to answer him. The formalities please Robert.”

   Bobby snorted indignantly. “I ain’t your servant.” His gaze returned to the reaper. “Can’t reap either of us, stay standing there, answer any questions we ask truthfully, do as I tell you. Oh an’ I wouldn't attempt to escape.”

   The reaper grumbled to itself. “Could at least use a please.”

   Bobby ignored him and continued. “Did a reaper steal Crowley’s bones from Hell?”

   The reaper looked conflicted for a moment before they answered. “Yes.”

   “Who? We need a name.”

   “Name’s Karisle. Or at least that’s what she calls herself to humans. Real name’s…” The reaper spoke in deep Enochian and Bobby glanced back at Crowley. He noted the momentary look of concentration as the demon memorized the name.

   “You know the name?”

   Crowley shook his head slow deliberateness. “No, but I can search my records, if she’s one of mine, I’ll find her.”

   “Where is she now?” The reaper looked pained for a moment and Bobby ignored Crowley’s smirk.

   “I don’t know...last I heard she was doing a job on the surface.”

   They waited for a few moments, looking for any sign of deception and then Crowley spoke up. “Do you know who she was working for?”

   “No, but a demon I think.”

   “Were you involved in any way?”

   “No.” The Reaper seemed to be getting edgy and Bobby pierced him with a glare.

   “So you don’t know who has Crowley’s bones?”

   “I already said I don’t know. It might not even be her regular boss. she’s the rogue, not me.”

   Crowley snorted and muttered something about the Reaper lying through their teeth. Bobby rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the interruption. “We’ve got what we need, huh? I don’t think he’s got much more for us.”

   “I believe you may be right Robert. Are you ready darling?”

   “Mhm.” The Reaper’s eyes narrowed and they lunged as Bobby dropped the talisman to the ground and it cracked. He slammed his hand against the banishing sigil. In the split second before the Reaper was gone in a flash of white light he heard a curse and saw their eyes widen. He jumped up, scooping up the talisman as he did and his duffle bag of supplies. “Time to go Crowley.”

   “Trying.” Bobby turned as Crowley grabbed his shoulder, using the hunter for support. Bobby reached around him, holding Crowley up as the demon doubled over in pain. He caught a glimpse of red eyes and realized it was an involuntary reaction to what was happening. The panic intensified as Crowley attempted and failed to teleport either of them.

   “Crowls...don’ mean to rush you, but we gotta go, and soon. You up to it or should I start setting somethin’ up to hold the Reaper off if they come back?” Bobby scanned the room swiftly. He noted Growley lower down and slink around both of them in a defensive posture.

   “I can do it, I can do this. I’ll get us back. I got you into this mess, I won’t let you get hurt because of me.” Crowley took a few deep breath and screwed his eyes shut. Bobby marveled for a moment at how calm he’d managed to sound whereas Crowley's voice had broken. He forced himself to focus, filing it away for something to think about later. Perferably when he wasn’t in a life or death situation. He reacted fast enough to grab Crowley when they appeared back in his living room. Within moments of them teleporting he was holding an armful of unconscious demon.

   “...Balls.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here we are. Fourth chapter up on time and at a decent time instead of 1am. I am quite proud of myself. And now's about the time we start getting into the meat of the story. Enjoy!

   Bobby cursed and startled from his drowsy state as his chair shuddered. Looking down, the cause was two tails recklessly thumping against the wooden chair leg. “Ey, stop that.”

       Growley whined like a puppy and settled back on his paws to wait for a moment. Bobby gave him two minutes before the dog got restless. He'd go back to pacing between the prone figure on the couch and Bobby’s desk soon enough. He’d been doing it since they’d gotten back. And Bobby had tried not to think about why the hellhound was circling around him too. He seemed less like an angry predator and more like a nervous sheepdog. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to go down that line of thinking.

   It had taken some maneuvering to get Crowley on the couch. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t as young and spry as he once had been and Crowley had been dead weight in his arms. Growley’s concerned sniffing hadn’t helped much either in lifting the bastard. In retrospect, Crowley was lighter than Bobby had expected. His vessel was a bit on the pudgy side, but it was a soft weight. Not the hard muscle of other hunters that Bobby had toted around on occasion. Granted the majority of those cases had been Rufus or the Winchesters. Whatever gave demons their super strength, it didn’t come from the vessel. Crowley was strong when he wanted to be and Bobby had seen his superhuman strength in action before. As much as his vessel suited him, the last soul to occupy it before him hadn’t been a bodybuilder.

   These observations weren’t any better than asking why Crowley’s hellhound was protecting them both. But Bobby had used up as much time as he could doing research and now his mind was beginning to wander. There were just too many things he had to ask Crowley. Too many questions he didn’t have the answers to, or the resources to answer them. The reaper, too many things about hell and heaven he didn’t know and didn’t have the lore on. Dealing with demons like Crowley, demons as powerful as Crowley, was outside what used to be the norm. Despite how often they dealt with Crowley, there were things about him Bobby didn't know. They'd had to adapt to a world were things were more powerful and they didn't have all the answers.  Angels and reapers were just downright too new. It took a long time to compile comprehensive lore on a subject. Frankly there just hadn’t been time between apocalypses to do it.

   Which brought Bobby back to the demon king who’d been lying on his couch for the past half an hour. He had no idea what to expect when Crowley woke up. Likely a snarky comment about his couch, which they didn’t have time for. Nor would the comment be necessary but would be par norm. It wasn’t like Bobby didn’t know how uncomfortable that couch could be. Lying on it was how he’s made all the lumps and divots and then lying on those had ensured he knew how annoying it was. It had passed his mind that Crowley would be more comfortable in the spare or his own bedroom. He'd thought about moving him there, but that would be too personal. Bobby was using that excuse despite the fact that privacy had been the last thing he on his mind.

   In reality the reason he hadn't moved Crowley was more embarrassing. He was afraid that if he moved Crowley now, the demon might wake up any second. If he woke up while Bobby was carrying him, things were going to get awkward, and fast. The feeling that had first urged him to place Crowley on the couch was that he needed to be able to keep an eye on him. Bobby had logic-ed that as he was just concerned Crowley might pull something when he woke up. That Bobby knew was a blatant half-lie but it was better than admitting he was acting a bit like a stalker. Watching Crowley sleep to make sure he was okay was stalker-ish behaviour.

   Bobby could remember someone calling him a sentimental bastard once-probably by Rufus. It occurred to him that maybe he should’ve stopped hunting and turned Crowley down. His sentimentality was interfering with his hunter instincts, at least in this case. He was hoping it was just old age getting to him. Finding somewhere for a demon king to take a nap shouldn’t have been such a complex problem.

   With any other demon, the answer would’ve been in Hell, after a brief but potent exorcism. But Crowley...he was dead asleep on the couch in the middle of Bobby’s living room instead.

   He stood gruffly, needing a change of scenery. Growley skittered backward in surprise and he ignored the hellhound. To be honest it was his own fault, he’d moved only a little bit in the last half hour.

   The kitchen seemed far away enough and Bobby wandered around for a few moments. His fingers skimmed the kitchen cabinets before he opened the fridge door. Some sort of distraction seemed to be in order. Beer seemed like a good idea. As he reached for it, something snuffled into the back of his knee. He let out what he would forever deny was a scream as his head slammed into the top of the fridge.

   Growley snuffled again, this time at the leg of his pants apologetically. Bobby only grumbled about Crowley not training his dogs well under his breath. “What? Whaddya want? I ain’t your Dad.”

   Growley only nudged him again and stuck his nose in the fridge. It took a moment, but Bobby recognized the package he was sniffing at.

   “Deer bones. Shoulda guessed.” That got a happy little yip and Bobby pulled the package from the fridge. “A’right, a’right.”

   He hesitated for a long moment, not wanting to put the raw deer bones on the floor. His gaze followed Growley trot off into a corner of the kitchen. The man-sized Hellhound came back a few seconds later, pushing a dog bowl toward Bobby with its nose. The memories of Rumsfeld doing the same hit him, pushing bowls across the floor when he wanted food. It was the same bowl and Bobby was a little embarrassed about the state of it. Like Karen’s things, he hadn’t been able to get rid of it and it had left it where it always was, collecting dust.

   He swallowed hard before reaching down and lifting the little silver bowl. There were cobwebs covering the top and Bobby moved to the sink, running the water and then drying the bowl. The bowl went down on the floor, deer bones in it. Bobby watched as Growley's butt wiggled with his tail in happiness as he chowed down.

   Bobby sunk down onto a kitchen chair after grabbing a beer, watching Growley. They needed help, he couldn’t deny that. Not Jody’s help, or the help of other hunters. They needed someone who had knowledge that Bobby didn’t. He knew Crowley would be mad, but it was time to call in the big guns.

   Bobby reached for his cell phone and rescued Rumsfeld’s water bowl from the corner. He was standing at the sink, washing it when a voice answered his call. The voice deep and concerned sounding.

   “Hey Bobby. How're you?”

   “Just...well…”

   “You don't call without a reason, what’s up?”

   “I ah..Look, I need you to do me a favour Dean. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

///

   Crowley woke up with slow movements, eyes drifting open languidly. He registered the weight of a hellhound head on his chest first. Everything seemed normal, till he realized the lumpy surface beneath him was not where he took a nap. Nor did the flaring pain across his chest state that it was one of those times he found it convenient to take a nap. Or that he felt bored enough to take one. He jolted upright at that realization, much to Growley’s displeasure and his head spun. He was forced to brace himself on his elbows against whatever was underneath him.

   “Easy, Easy, you’re at my place Crowls.” He spotted Bobby first, leaning against his desk. The man looked a little conflicted about reaching out to Crowley. Whatever he was thinking, he realized it showed on his face and he masked it just as soon as he knew.

   “Your energy make take a while to rebound after the latest use. You should wait to stand until you’ve gathered your strength back.”

   Crowley waited a moment until the world came into perfect focus and swung his legs off the couch to sit up. He recognized Bobby’s study and he levelled a glare at the unwanted intrusion. “Did you only call Feathers or the entire calvary Robert?”

   Castiel stayed as neutral as ever, at least outwardly. “Bobby prayed for me after you collapsed and didn’t seem to be waking up. He was right to do so.”

   Crowley rolled his eyes with more than a little dramatic flair. He let himself rest against the back of the couch, unsure if he could sit up without wavering or falling into a faint. “Really? So far as I heard, you only ever answer your precious little Squirrel’s prayers. And sometimes not even his.”

   Bobby blushed and refused to look at Crowley. “I asked Dean to call ‘im.”

   Crowley’s eyes snapped to Bobby and his lips formed a thin line. Bobby to raise his hands in surrender. “I thought Dean could get through to ‘im better. When he didn’t respond to Dean I called ‘im myself. The boy’s don’ know why I needed ‘im, ‘m not stupid.”

   Castiel hadn’t moved, motionless in the middle of the study. “I hadn’t thought Dean needed me. He was quite vague and there didn’t seem to be any of the usual urgency in his prayer. Bobby’s prayer was distressed. I assumed after that, that Dean was serious and that it was an emergency.” His glare was severe, perhaps more so than Crowley’s as they faced off. “You should be grateful Booby called or I wouldn’t be here and you would be dead in a matter of days.”

   Bobby winced. “I didn’t...nevermind. Play nice you two.”

   “How long was I gone for?”

   Bobby spoke up as Castiel opened his mouth. “‘Bout and hour an’ fifteen. Cas’ been here for ‘bout half an hour. Forty five minutes till the next one.”

   “Splendid.” Crowley waved Growley off as the Hellhound attempted to climb on his lap. The hellhound acted like an oversized and overeager puppy sometimes. “Oh hell. What did you eat, your breath is disgusting pup. And what exactly do you plan to do now that you’re here Feathers?”

   Bobby stiffened in the corner and the blush didn’t go unnoticed by Crowley. He filed it away as something for later and dismissed the thought for the moment.

   “I’m here to help you with your reaper problem. I have some information you may need. Karisle’s name was unfamiliar to me but I’ve given Bobby enough for you to find her.” Castiel strode forward, ignoring Crowley’s protests as he encroached on the demons personal space. He placed a hand on Crowley’s chest and Crowley stilled. “This should give you a slight bit more protection and reduce some of the pain. Enough to keep you conscious should you be in a similar situation as before. Of course it won’t save you if it comes down to it.”

   Crowley grimaced as Castiel’s grace reached out and flooded his vessel for a moment. The angel erected a thin barrier around the part of him made of hellfire. When he opened his eyes the angel was gone. “Can’t even bother with a proper goodbye.”

   Bobby snorted and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of Crowley. “A’right, let’s take a look. How’re you feeling?”

   “Like death warmed over, but that’s a little too ironic I suppose.” Crowley huffed and didn’t resist Bobby smoothing away his rumpled jacket and dress shirt. “Ow...hey…”

   The hunter shifted his grip to avoid touching the blistered area around Crowley’s ribs. The burns had originated on the right, near his collarbone and then spread down to the left. Bobby’s eyes drifted to look for any other signs of burning and settled on an artfully done tattoo.

   “What? Something wrong Singer?”

   Bobby startled, pulling back. “Nothing! Just...wasn’t expecting...those…”

   Crowley made an amused snorting noise. “Came with the vessel darling.”

   “A literary agent?”

   The demon's eyes narrowed with a smirk, challenging Bobby to prove him wrong. “You think I’d be so attached to a vessel to mark it as if it were my own?”

   “Didn’ say anything like that.” Bobby soothed. moving to inspect the burns again while contemplating that thought. If Crowley wasn't attached to this vessel, he wouldn’t have bothered to keep it together for so long. That had to mean Crowley felt as though this body were his own now. He liked having a body and wanted this one to be his. It was a decidedly human quality, wanting to make your outer self reflect your inner self. Excluding the possession part of the whole thing. “Cas gave me a spell that might help with the pain, we can try it later if you don’t mind waiting. For now I think you oughta stick with the Siren’s blood. An ice bath or cold water may help, at least to deal with the physical pain from your vessel.”

   Crowley didn't shy away from Bobby’s inspection or careful manipulation. He held still but seemed far more relaxed than when Castiel had prodded. “I’d prefer to have a plan of action in place before we do anything else if you don’t mind.”

   “‘course not, ‘m not an idjit. Knew you’d want to get back to work as soon as you woke up from your little nap.” Bobby smirked at Crowley’s annoyance as he moved back to the safety and familiarity of his desk. He moved away from any questioning thoughts about the humanity in the demon sitting on his couch. He pushed the glasses Crowley had given him up his nose, not noticing them. Crowley stamped down the surge of affection and pride that hit as he realized Bobby was wearing them. “Cas had a few resources, Reaper traps and summoning spells and the like. It’ll make things easier to have the reapers version of a devil's trap.”

   Crowley didn't even attempt to school any of his cheek this time. He'd unconciously decided that if Bobby hadn't kicked him out already, he wouldn't now. “Ah yes, and after that? Because unlike the last time, this Reaper will, most likely, be willing to hunt you down and kill you. Or should we leave it trapped in your basement? For the foreseeable future and perhaps eternity?”

   “In the words of one Dean Winchester: we gank it." Bobby reached behind his desk, picking up something sharp that flashed with silver. He returned the words with equal snark and Crowley’s lips curled up in a half smile. If there was one human he enjoyed verbal sparring with, it was Mr Bobby Singer. “‘s why I convinced Cas to lend me this. Pretty sure it ain’t his own but I wasn’t about to ask where he got it from.”

   Crowley looked over the angel blade and made a satisfied noise. He shooed Growley’s head off his lap and the hellhound trotted off toward the kitchen. “Well, now that is useful. Should give us a means in case she won’t talk right away.”

   Bobby’s gaze followed the hellhound and Crowley cleared his throat. Once he had the hunters full attention, he continued. “Not much can hurt a Reaper, what with them technically being angels, but that can. If she is hesitant…”

   “Torture.” Bobby finished flatly, giving Crowley a half-hearted glare. The demon king sent back a mockingly sweet smile.

   “King of Hell darling. If there’s one thing I know how to get, it’s information.”

   “I bet.” Bobby groused and then perked up with a start. “Ey! No, outta the fridge.”

   Growley slunk back into the room, belly low to the ground and Bobby sighed. He reached over the scratch the hellhoulds ears as Growley nosed at him, covering up a yawn with his other hand. Crowley peered into the kitchen, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Food and water bowls? Really Robert?”

   “I-they-” Bobby looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Had leftover deer bones an’ he wanted ‘em. They’re from my old-”

   “Dog. Rumsfeld was its name yes?” Crowley turned back to Bobby. Only to find himself on the receiving end of the same suspicious look he’d been giving the water and chow bowls.

   “Ya. How’d ya know that?”

   “...Know your enemy and all that?”

   Bobby humphed and then looked away, once again covering a yawn, to Crowley’s relief. The concern Bobby had displayed for Growley was endearing. But his slip of tongue was not what he wanted Bobby analyzing.

   “You should probably get some sleep.” His eyes widened in disbelief and Crowley backtracked to mask his initial intentions. “ It has been a long day and you aren’t of any use if you can't focus.”

   There was a pregnant pause. Crowley wasn't expecting or prepared for the concerned and conflicted expressions on Bobby’s features. “You sure? I mean sleep would be nice but can you handle all night? I’ll be fine if I don’t sleep, done it before. We can get on with it if you want.”

   “I’ll be fine. It’ll give me time to make good on your suggestions.” Crowley didn’t realize he was physically ushering a hesitant Bobby to the hunters bedroom. Then they were standing awkwardly in the doorway and he backed away. “Uh...sleep well. Good night Robert.”

   He disappeared down the hallway before Bobby could respond.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, sorry for the delay. Work and school got in the way and I had to postpone the editing of this chapter until the this friday. Again, sorry about that. But here's the awaited chapter. Enjoy!

   Soft whispers, sweet and loving and Bbby relaxed into the hold around his waist. His eyes followed the perfectly tailored line of a suit up. His hands followed the arms to gentle hands that he took in his own. A pair of lips touched his neck but did nothing else and Bobby turned into the touch. He captured a sweet kiss and brushed a stubbled cheek with the back of his hand.

   When he pulled away, two soft green eyes were peering up at him and a deeply husky voice whispered to him. “Bloody hell Robert, took you long enough.”

   Crowley.

   There was something to be said about the ability to force yourself awake. Bobby was particularly glad for that skill at that moment. He sat dead still for a long moment, sweating and panting. Finally he leaned back against the headboard, trying to clear his mind.

   Those eyes, those bright green eyes that Bobby had seen before but couldn’t identify. They’d been present when he’d dreamt of Karen, but he hadn’t recognized them. As the realization hit him, Bobby couldn’t deny that there had been other dreams like it. And he'd enjoyed them. It was the recognition that the man was Crowley. That had caught Bobby off guard because that couldn't have been right.

   It was, and he knew it was right and Bobby wasn't sure why exactly he wasn’t terrified about that. Crowley was a demon, the King of Hell no less, even if he did have what other demons would consider faults.

   He was demonic, but not especially evil. He smart, subtle and there was a bit of his humanity somewhere in there still. Or maybe he’d gained a little bit of humanity by doing the right thing when it was best for him. Bobby trusted him more than he ever would’ve trusted Ruby or Meg. Not that he would call the relationship he had with them trust. Not to mention, there was something in Crowley, mimicking humanity at the least. It made him easier to connect to and trust. Demons were generally meant to only have one emotion at a time, which made them unpredictable. They either changed rapidly or stayed on emotion the entire time. Whatever made a demon do that, seemed to have broken in Crowley. Bobby had seen him fearful, angry and calm all at once. When he’d come for help, Bobby had seen more than just fear in his expression. There was hopefulness and trust and something else. It made him distinctly human-esque. Humans weren’t predictable, but they were, at the least, understandable most of the time

   Bobby shut those thoughts out as soon as he could. To think them was to consider and consideration often lead to action. They weren’t compatible, a demon and a hunter, and he would have to leave it at that. That was the only rational option.

   “Robert, darling, someone’s on the phone for you.” There was a soft knock on the door and Bobby attempted not to spring for the handle. If he did, then Crowley would know he had been awake before he knocked and he couldn't have that. He opened the door, finding Crowley leaning against the door frame and holding out a cell phone. Squirrel decided to call. Wasn’t interested in talking to me. Hope you can come up with a good excuse.”

   Bobby glowered at him and took the phone. “‘ello.”

   “Bobby what the hell?! Are you okay?! Where are you?”

   “At home Dean.” Bobby sighed, searching through his drawers for clothing. He saw Crowley step into the room, watching out of the corner of his eye as the demon entered. “‘m fine. Whaddya need?”

   “Cas said you were in the middle of an important hunt when he stopped by. Sam’n’I are almost done with a salt and burn in Oklahoma. We can get yo you.”

   “‘s fine Dean.” Bobby sighed again, making silent and annoyed gestures at Crowley. The demon only continues fussing with his clothing and rifling through his drawers.

   “So, why exactly did Crowley answer your phone then?”

   There was a slight hesitation before Bobby answered. He stepped back as Crowley pushed him aside to grab "appropriate clothing". “Just cashing in on a favour he owes me by getting his help with the case. It’s under control.” He pulled the phone away and whispered under his breath. “Stop that.”

   “You sure?”

   “I’m sure.” Bobby looked over the nicer white shirt and jean. It was the only pair of blue jeans he owned that looked like they weren’t five years old and lived in. He ignored Crowley’s triumphant smirk. “Gotta go. Check in later a’right?”

   Bobby snapped the phone shut and rounded on Crowley. “Who toldja you could pick out my clothes?”

   Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed. “Someone needs to dress you Robert, considering you obviously dress yourself in the dark.”

   Bobby choked at the non-existent implications and turned away to hide his blush. “Fine, whatever. Get out so I can change.”

   “Of course…” Crowley sounded miffed but Bobby heard the door close. He waited until he heard footsteps head down the hallway and then relaxed. He stood in the relieved silence for a long moment before moving to get dressed.

   It didn't occur to him that he had put on the outfit that Crowley had laid out for him while he got dressed. It registered while he was buttoning up the shirt and he cursed before heading toward the kitchen.

   Crowley was in the kitchen already, humming something on the radio to himself. At his side sat Growley, the only movement from the hellhound was his ears. He wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table, rather moving about the kitchen, cooking. It seemed painfully domestic and Bobby stamped down on the thought that he could get used to that. Instead he cleared his throat to get Crowley's attention

   Crowley turned to face him and nodded his approval. “Look at that Robert. You are capable of looking presentable, for the most part.”

   Bobby pointedly ignored the observation. “What’re you doing?’

   “Breakfast.” Was the one word explanation he got and Crowley turned back to the stove before speaking again. “Some hunter named Rufus Turner wants you to call him back. Wanted to know, and I quote “what some british dude” was doing in your house. I told him it was your story to tell, not mine.”

   Bobby paled and swore. “He’s gonna think we’re sleeping together you idjit.”

   “Oh come now Robert, what did you expect me to tell him? I didn’t even know you swung that way. Or should I say, swung both ways.” There was a smug note to his drawl that said the demon did know. And that perhaps he planned on using that information to his advantage.

   Bobby wasn't so sure he’d mind if Crowley used that information in a specific way. That scared him a little. He wasn’t supposed to want that. He was turning to grab the phone when something metallic clattered to the floor. He changed direction, finding that the spatula that had been in Crowley's hand was on the floor. Crowley was bracing himself on the stove, back shuddering with hard pants. “Hey, hey, easy.” His one hand went to Crowley’s back, the other to hold him up against his chest. “You’re gonna burn your hands. Come on and sit down.” He was in fact bracing himself on the hot stove. Granted Bobby wasn’t sure Crowley cared at the moment, it was all he could think of to say.

   Crowley sank into the chair with his eyes screwed shut. “Not...as bad as...yesterday...at least.”

   “Ya, well yesterday you insisted on getting us back here when you didn’t have the ability to.” Bobby rubbed Crowley’s back, watching the demon curl up and try to control his breathing. He timed the circular pattern of his rubbing with Crowley’s breathing.

   “Couldn’t let you get hurt. I got you into this, I won’t be responsible for something happening to you. Couldn’t handle it.” Crowley’s voice was almost inaudible and Bobby swallowed.

   “Just that it easy. I’m not a child Crowls, I know the risks and I can take care of myself. You don’t need to tell me, I get it.”

   “You’re not immortal either.” Crowley relaxed into Bobby’s touch. “Sometimes I wonder how you survived this long. Humans are so...out of their depth, fragile.”

   “You aren’t the first to tell me that I’m part of a dying breed. There aren’t many hunters left that’re my age.” Bobby paused, closing his eyes for a long moment. “We oughta get to work. You’ll be outta commission soon an’ I don’ wanna cut it too close if I hafta do this by myself.”

   Crowley chuckled with dry humor and sat up with slow deliberation. “Once I’m “out of commission”, I suspect you’d be better off leaving me for dead.”

   “Probably. But ‘m human and ’m stupid so ‘m not gonna to do that.” Bobby stood, forgetting about the breakfast that was still on the stove. He didn’t notice Growley on his hind legs eating it either.

   “Just a moment.”

   Bobby turned, eyebrows furrowing and Crowley’s ducked head. “What?”

   The demon didn’t respond, body tensed. Bobby took a step closer, hand under Crowley’s chin to direct him to look upward. and He breathed out a slow breath when he saw the problem. “Oh.”

   Crowley closed his eyes a bit and Bobby got the feeling he was looking away but it was hard to tell. He’d never seen Crowley’s demon eyes before, and he didn’t think anyone he knew had. It was the one part of his demon nature that the others flaunted but Crowley seemed almost shy about. They were a dark, maroon red, with black in the middle. It wasn’t as creepy as Lilith’s white or Azazel’s yellow.

   Crowley pulled away. “I can’t...I can’t change them back. At least not if I want to hold onto a power reserve.”

   “Then don’t, that’s fine.” Bobby patted Crowley’s shoulder. “Cas gave me a spell that might help a bit. Forgot about it last night. We’ll try that and then get down to tracking down that Reaper. Stay here, I’ll be back in a bit.”

   He tried not to think about how much Crowley’s eyes, green or red, seemed to suit him.

  Crowley hadn’t moved, much to Bobby’s surprise when he returned. He took the spell in stride, sighing in relief when Bobby finished. “Thank you.”

   His eyes still wouldn’t change back. Bobby found himself trying to study them without being obvious about it. “Alright. Come on, you can help me get everything set up downstairs if you’ve got the strength. I ain’t doin’ this by myself.” He gathered up the supplies he needed, arms overflowing and juggling things. Crowley stopped him, taking some of it and motioning for Bobby to continue once he’d done so with a tilt of his head.

   Bobby paused, chewing his lip. “Thanks.”

   He slipped downstairs. Crowley followed after giving Growley a quick order to stay upstairs and guard the house.

   “You salted the doors and windows and fixed up your devil's traps.”

   Bobby stopped in his tracks. He wanted to figure out where this thread of conversation had come from, where it was going and why. “Usually do.”

   “Not when there isn’t anyone attacking you. You like to appear at least somewhat normal.” Crowley set his armful of supplies down and turned to Bobby with a raised eyebrow. “Keeping me in?”

   “Not likely.” That was a bit too close to what he actually wanted and Bobby answered, trying to sound gruff. “Keeping others out.”

   “I’ve seen you hold your own without those precautions often enough.” Crowley was blushing, looking away to pretend disinterest and wiping dust off his suit. “I dislike feeling trapped Robert.”

   “I ain’t holding you here. You were unconscious and vulnerable and we’re dealing with angels and demons and reapers. Had to protect us both. You're not trapped, never will be unless I’ve got a damn good reason to keep you here. But we both know you’re smart enough not to walk into a trap here unless you meant to.” Crowley froze as Bobby spoke up with a soft tone, beginning to spray symbols on the floor in red spray paint.

   “Why would you...” Crowley swallowed, afraid to hear the answer but pressed on. He knew that as long as Bobby was distracted with the Reaper’s trap, he had the advantage of a truthful answer. “I never gave you a good reason to help me. Why are you doing this? Why do...I...matter to you?”

   “Cause I care.” Bobby moved around Crowley as the demon set to work helping, using the plans Castiel had given them. “Because I’m me and I’m human and I care about people who need my help. ‘m a hunter, ‘s my job.”

   “And I’m a demon. Your job is to care about everyone else but me.”  

   Bobby’s fist clenched and he turned, finding himself squarely in Crowley’s personal space. There was a moment's hesitation when he felt he could’ve pressed forward and not be rejected. He spoke instead. “Well, this time,’s different. Jus’ be glad it is.”

   Crowley snapped his mouth shut, the black in his eyes flaring for a moment and Bobby watched. “Would you mind waiting for a few minutes. I’d rather not collapse during an interrogation.”

   “Go sit down. Let me know when you’re ready.” Bobby motioned to the stairs and hesitated before sitting down next to Crowley. There was a whine from upstairs before something large, soft and furry curled up on the stair above them. They both leaned against the hellhound behind them.

   Crowley’s arm brushed against Bobby’s. “I never thanked you properly for this so...thank you. Just in case I don’t make it and can’t repay you for this.”

   Bobby didn't move away, instead adjusting his posture letting Crowley lean against him too. “You’re welcome. And don’ apologize for dragging me into this mess. Better you in control of Hell than...someone else.”

  “You mean Lucifer.”

   “Or Azazel, or Alistair, or Lilith, or Meg, or Ruby. Or any of ‘em really.”

   “I’ll take that as a complement.” Cowley relaxed into Bobby for a moment and then stood. “Time to get to work. Growley, back upstairs.”

   Bobby skirted past Crowley, kneeling in front of the altar without any further prompting. He checked the paper at his side occasionally as he chanted in soft Enochian. A peek back at Crowley showed that he seemed to recognize the words and was memorizing them. The hunter made a quick cut against his palm and bled into the incense. He then lit a match and dropped it into the bowl. Before he could wrap his hand, Crowley stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

   Bobby looked up at Crowley and then back down at the now non-existent cut on his hand. Crowley looked away, embarrassed by where his thoughtless actions had taken him. It wasn’t often he submitted to his first instincts and emotions and Bobby knew it too. It had been careless though, and they both knew that as well. It wasn’t Crowley’s usual style and that meant something.

   “Save your power. I can handle little things like that.” Bobby murmured and Crowley swallowed, about to speak when a surprised shout interrupted him.

   “You!”

   Both demon and hunter snapped up to look at the reaper in the middle of the room. They pulled away from each other, blushing like schoolgirls.

   “You-you weren’t supposed to-how could you have-I-I thought he was joking!” She attempted to scramble away from them, only to hit the edge of the trap. “I knew this was a bad idea...what the-!”

   Her eyes drifted downwards and she cursed in Enochian as the trap registered to her. “No...oh no.”

   “You must me Karisle.” Crowley wound around the trap and Karisle moved into the middle of it, looking like a mouse played with by a snake.

   Karisle watched him twirl the angel blade in his hands, inspecting the edges. “How’d you find out about me?”

   “You, my dear, are not in the position to be asking any questions.” Crowley inspected his nails boredly. There was a reason other demons were afraid of Crowley. Bobby got the distinct impression that if Karisle didn't cooperate, he'd see why. “But for the sake of being civil and since I’m feeling generous, I’ll tell you. A friend of yours gave us your name. Judging by your reaction to our summoning, we’ve got the reaper we wanted. As for the blade and the trap, those are thanks to Castiel.”

   “Fuck.” Karisle curled into herself and shied away at Crowley’s approach. “What do you want?”

   “You know exactly want I want. I want answers.” Crowley shared a look with Bobby as he leaned against the stairwell banister. He mouth a quick comment over Karisle’s head when she turned to face Bobby. “This might go faster if you help.”

   “People tend to notice when their bones go missing apparently.” Bobby held her terrified gaze with his cool, level one. He channeled an inner, unemotional calm. “Can’t say I blame ‘im, seems a bit important. I like mine to stay where they are too, only mine are inside me.”

   “Let’s start with an easy question. To...test the waters.” Karisle looked back to Crowley, wide, scared eyes travelling over him. “Did you, or did you not, steal my bones from Hell?”

   “I’d say you already know that I did.” Karisle swallowed, muttering lowly. “It was just a job.”

   “It’s always easier when the subject chooses to answer truthfully. I'd rather finish this quickly and I’m sure you’d appreciate not having this blade used on you. Now where are they?”

   “I don't know. I dropped them off with a demon in Maine.” She turned to follow Crowley’s movements behind her. “I wasn’t told much.”

   “Where did they go? You don’t strike as completely stupid, I’m sure you have information enough to cover your own ass. Though you did steal the King of Hell’s bones so I wouldn’t say you think things through….” Bobby spoke up before Crowley could, head tilted to one side and eyebrow raised.

   “A hotel...in Boston.” Karisle admitted with a mutter. “I didn’t look for street names or whatever but it’s closed down and next to an old automobile factory. You can’t miss the sigils all over it.”

   “Who?"

   “I don’-" Karisle licked her lips and paused as Crowley came closer with the angel blade. He stepped within the trap and she reconsidered her answer. “Okay, okay. I didn’t know the demon I dropped them off with and the employer was anonymous so I didn’t bother to try and ask. The amount was high enough. But I did overhear a name. Varizan, if that means anything to you.”

   Crowley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and thought. “Mmm. I know the name. Do you know what Varizan planned on doing with my bones?”

   “Torch ‘em, probably. Didn’t ask about that either.” Karisle skittered to the opposite edge of the trap, near Bobby. She was uncomfortable with the amount of space between herself and Crowley. And she was getting more worried as he advanced. “Or leverage, maybe. It’s not like you don’t have a target on your back.”

   “Why?” Crowley crouched down, grasping Karisle’s chin between his fingers. “What’s their motive?”

   Karisle hesitated and the blade slid around her neck. “There’s...a loyalist movement. Beneath your nose. Working with Raphael to free Lucifer and Michael. Like how you’re working with Castiel. Mutual interests.”

   Crowley snarled, slicing down Karisle’s chest and she cried out. “I should’ve guessed. What did she pay you in?”

   “Souls.” The reaper gasped out an answer. “Souls meant for Hell to take to Heaven.”

   “She what?!?” Crowley roared, furious and Karisle whimpered as Bobby winced in displeasure. “That...you’re lucky you're not dead yet but Varizan certainly will be. I will not spare her.”

   And then Crowley keeled over, stumbling out of the trap and giving Bobby almost no time to catch him. “Shite. Bloody hell.”

   Bobby propped him up, lowering Crowley to sit on the steps. He slid the angel blade from the demon's hands and into his belt where Karisle couldn’t see it. “Whoa, a’right. Easy, deep breaths.”

   Crowley glared at him between shaking convulsions and dry heaves. Karisle looked between them with wide eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. “Thank you...for that...wonderful...advice.”

   “Wait is…” Karisle blinked rapidly as she processed the new information. “The bones are being burnt now?”

   “Not really your problem, is it?” Bobby put a hand of support underneath Crowley’s elbow as the demon attempted to stand and faile. Bobby helped him to sit again and Crowley made a grateful sound in the back of his throat.

   “Oh, but it is.” Karisle giggled, sounding a bit hysterical. “He’ll be dead soon and someone’ll let me out eventually and if he’s not already dead, I’ll kill you both.” Her eyes flickered up to Bobby. “I might get in trouble for reaping you early but it would be worth it. And watching him turn into a limp wreck might be fun.”

   Bobby glowered at her and bit back an uncharacteristic growl. “For now you’re still trapped and we still have the upper hand.”

   “I don’t have to answer anymore.” Karisle sneered, regaining her confidence now that Crowley was temporarily waylaid. A demon king she couldn't handle, but a human she could and Bobby knew it. “You come in here and we’re on an even playing field.”

   Bobby stared her down without flinching. “Crowley, how would a trapped reaper do against a hellhound?”

   “Not...well…”

  “Good.” Bobby whistled once, Growley appearing at his side in moments. He smiled a bit and ruffled the hellhounds fur, giving him a scratch behind the ears. “Don’t kill her, just toss her around until she’s ready to talk.”

   Karisle gulped and stepped back. A growl came from deep in the hellhound's throat and he stalked towards her.

 


End file.
